I was no sooner in the street, where I was carried along by the hustling throng than I regretted having refused the offer of such divine dew as I knew must be distilled from the be-ribboned birch of Nelly Lamb.
Doutbless, she was a perfect mistress of the flagellating art, but the state of feverish excitement I had been in, exacerbated my need of some violent upheaval to calm my nerves; the influence of the adorable woman's marvelous beauty; her cajoling, graceful ways-all this had combined to confuse my ideas, their present trend being towards some energetic action.
When, therefore, I recovered self-control, I felt inclined to continue my voyage of discovery, hoping to find, among other Chicagoan female floggers, the inexorable and authoritative domineering woman, who, conquering my will-power, would know how to force me to submit to the severe birching correction I so greatly required.
Before pursuing my exploration, I was obliged to return to the boarding-house, where I had taken up residence, to get a cheque-book my bankers had promised to send me.
By one of those mysterious hazards of life, an event took place as I returned to my lodgings which caused my inward excited feelings to be increased to the highest neurotic pitch. More oil was thrown on the fire of my secret passions.
A young hired girl, a fat wench of twenty, had been detected in an act of petty pilfering. From a lady boarder, she had stolen a scrap of lace which had been found in her room. The married couple who ran the establishment proposed their ultimatum to the wretched servant-girl: a complaint would e maid to the police and she would go to prison, or she was to submit with docility to severe corporal chastisement.
The silly lass was dreadfully frightened at the vision of a stone cell, and with much weeping, elected to endure castigation. Her master and mistress decided that she should undergo her whipping at the hands of a disciplinarian governess of a neighbouring school. She consented to carry out this private execution at the boarding-house, in return for her customary fee of one dollar.
As I returned, I saw the formidable person destined to dispense birching justice. The mere sight of her caused me to experience a thrill of deep emotion. This governess was a fine, tall woman, getting on for forty. Her frigid stare and imperious bearing made me shiver.
She was not alone, being accompanied by one of her young pupils carrying a bundle of rods wrapped up in a newspaper. Dragging her sobbing victim into a room on the first story, the severe matron locked herself in.
Urged on by an invincible inquisitive craving, I stealthily glided down the dark passage, until I reached a little cupboard-like chamber adjoining the room where the punitive drama was to be enacted. My narrow retreat was separated from the whipping room by a light partition. I could see nothing, but it was easy to hear distinctly all that took place. My heart beat heavily at the sounds that fell upon my ears.
First, there was a long interval of silence, broken only by the loud sobs of the young minx. Then came a curt order from the governess, telling the girl to undress. I heard her garments fall, one by one, on the floor.
“Don't give me any trouble or bother,” said the stern disciplinarian. “You know you're only getting what you richly deserve.”
I felt sure that while she spoke thus, she was tying the culprit to some heavy piece of furniture. A long wait followed, full of anxiety for me, until the rod began to hiss in the air before falling with its loud “click, clack,” on the firm young posteriors; the blows being applied in rapid succession.
The wretched maid-servant began to moan, and soon howled dismally, but the implacable twigs continued their task of expiation most mercilessly.
Suddenly, I heard the rod fall to the ground. There were hurried steps, as if someone moving about. The chambermaid uttered a shriek of affright.
“No, no, ma'am! Oh, don't, I pray you! I'll hold my tongue! I won't shriek any more!”
The voice of the guilty girl gave way. Choking, smothered sounds issued from her throat. The implacable schoolmistress had surely forced a gag into her victim's mouth, preventing her crying out. Then the saraband of the whistling, crashing twigs was started once more, terrible to listen to, in the midst of gruesome stillness.
I gasped with anguish, hearkening to the whistling rod cutting and lacerating the hussey's plump buttocks where it would leave bleeding traces.
It seemed as if the flogging harridan would never stop. I plainly made out her hoarse, “Ugh!” as she made each successive slashing effort, putting her maximum of strength into all her stinging swishes. I trembled from head to foot, shuddering at the echo of every smarting cut, as if I had received it on my own backside.
I cannot tell how long this poignant scene lasted. I was maddened and bewildered, when I caught sight of the terrible flogging woman leaving the locked room. Her face was full of animation. Her eyes sparkled. She was followed by her wretched victim, who, crying bitterly, could scarce drag her faltering steps along.
There rose in me a mad wish to accost the flogging governess and beseech her to treat me with the same rigour, but before I had quite made up my mind, she was gone, and my excited feelings were more tumultuous than before, as I had found I had missed her.
Forgetting all about my cheques, I jumped into the first cab that passed, ordering the man to drive to the address of a masseuse who had used the word “severe” in her advertisement.
I was shown into a flat which did not in the least resemble that of entrancing Nelly Lamb. The parlour, furnished with sober good taste, appeared as if it was also used as an office. A roll-top desk, encumbered with heaps of books and papers, made me fancy for an instant that I had made a mistake in the address.
My doubts increased when I was confronted by a young and remarkably pretty woman who came into the room. She was very ladylike, dressed in a becoming, rich frock of pearl-grey silk, fitting admirably and closely to her fine figure. She looked like a wealthy, middle-class tradesman's wife. Nothing in her manner or appearance betokened the “severe masseuse.”
With rather more cermonious gravity than was necessary, she saluted me politely, and begging me to take a seat, asked me very solemnly what was the object of my visit?
“I hope I have made no mistake,” I said. “This is the dwelling of Miss Florence, 'severe masseuse,' is it not?”
“You are perfectly right, sir,” was her reply. “I am Miss Florence. Now I have given you that information, it's time to come to a show-down. I reckon you are an amateur of flagellation?”
“Your surmise is correct,” I rejoined.
“In that case, my dear sir,” she went on, “I may as well tell you at once that I don't go in for voluptuous birching, like many women who mix up coaxing caresses with whipping, thereby destroying the true character of corporal punishment. I don't try to give pleasure. My aim is not to provoke lascivious feeling by progressive artful fingering and vile kisses.
“I am a normal bircher-almost adminstrative, I must say-and the punishments I inflict are intended to create in a guilty person the impression of enforced chastisement from which there is no escape once he has elected to endure it. My chastisement is of two kinds: ordinary correction, consisting of sixty strokes of the rod, applied in two series of thirty cuts each, with a short interval between each series, so as to allow the culprit to collect his thoughts. My fee is ten dollars.
“The second kind is very severe indeed. It consists in the employment of a martinet with leather thongs. The blows are distributed all over the body, with the exception of the posteriors, where are reserved for active treatment, comprising one hundred blows of the birch in two series of fifty strokes each, and twenty cuts from a riding-whip-also divided into two series.
“My severe punishment costs twenty-five dollars and I assure you it is well worth the money. Such are my two chastisements. I do nothing else. I have an equal and regular way of whipping, peculiarly my own. My hand never trembles, nor does it change style of mechanical infliction for any reason whatever, so that you may be sure to get good and loyal measure. Should you wish to try ordinary punishment, you will be able to judge for yourself.”
“I shall be delighted!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, delighted?” she replied with a sceptical smile. “It's not a laughing matter. My rods are splendid and I have strong, untiring arms.”
Her last remark did not frighten me, but caused my yearnings to reach their uttermost limits, so I begged the young woman to operate on me at once.
“That will be ten dollars,” she said.
I handed over the bill, which she put in a drawer of her desk.
